


Harry doesn't know

by thatsthefrailtyofgenius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: I'm trash tbh, M/M, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 02:01:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8871355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsthefrailtyofgenius/pseuds/thatsthefrailtyofgenius
Summary: Harry is oblivious, Sirius and Remus are baffled, and Hermione can be a little shit when it comes to gambling.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I know its ridiculous, but this has been floating around in my filing system for over a year now; I figured I may as well put it up.

It doesn’t even occur to him at first, that Harry might not know. It’s been decades now, and the majority of the people around him have known them long enough for it to be commonplace. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Soulmates. That’s just the way it is, the way it’s always been. Marianna, Frank, Alice, Dumbledore, Molly and Arthur, Dung, Tonks, even Snape; they all have memories of school that just always involved Sirius laid on top of Remus whilst he played with his hair between lessons, Remus and Sirius kissing between passing a joint around, Remus and Sirius with their fingers casually laced together in the corridors, always attached in some way or another, even when talking to other people.

There are actually pictures all over their bedroom as well, of the two of them kissing, dancing, play fighting in the snow that lead to more kissing, and moments where they’d tug each other’s scarfs tighter around their necks or press their foreheads together and smile for the camera.

What he means, is that it’s been so natural in his mind for so long, that he’s genuinely taken aback when Hermione mentions to Remus one day that Harry has no idea that they’re anything more than friends. And Sirius actually starts laughing because holy shit, he loves the bones of that kid, but by Merlin is he bloody oblivious.

It’s not like they’re discreet either. Sirius is usually holding Remus’ hand or fussing over him when he comes back from an Order assignment, and Remus is usually making his dinner or yelling at him about leaving the toilet seat up again. Sirius’ arm is usually draped over the back of Remus’ chair and he frequently mutters things in Remus’ ear to get him riled up in the middle of meetings. Remus deliberately wears his tighter jeans to make Sirius all hot and bothered when headquarters is most populated and half of the residents usually have a good laugh about it when he starts pacing or glaring at Remus’ rather wonderfully formed arse.

They’re very much as comfortable and romantically involved as they were when they were eighteen, so how Harry can be so unaware of it, is both sad and incredibly amusing. Remus berates him when he starts a wager. Even Hermione bets on how long it will take him to figure it out, and when Remus raises an eyebrow at her in surprise, she shrugs and grins and says something about being so bored she doesn’t give a shit.

Sirius even starts being more obvious. He slaps Remus’ behind whenever he walks past him, actually gets his tongue around Remus’ earlobe and makes him jump out of his chair in the middle of a meeting, and makes sure to be extra obvious about the innuendos when Harry is in the room. None of it is affective, and Harry still stares at them blankly when they’re being particularly transparent, sometimes even confused, as though he knows there’s a joke he’s not in on, but still can’t figure out what it is.

But then Remus is gone for a month on one of his assignments, and Sirius is extra bad. Like, not sleeping or eating or showering for thirty eight hours at a time and chain smoking forty a day bad. And he knows Harry is worried about him, and that the kid is also worried about Remus, and he wants to tell him that he has nothing to worry about, but he can barely breathe half the time with Remus gone, let alone form coherent sentences.

It’s a Saturday that he hears the front door go and the portrait wake up, but he’s straight down the corridor the second the door is closed behind them, his body slamming into Remus’, their mouths clashing together desperately, whining and probably crying slightly, unable to keep himself calm or composed because _fuck_ , for a moment he thought he’d never be able to do this again, and he’s been like a starving man for four weeks now, and with the tight clutch of Remus’ hands in his hair and his laboured breath against his neck, Sirius can finally breathe.

“Harry,” Remus manages over his shoulder and Sirius frowns, worked up and so relieved his brain is barely computing anything.

“What?” Sirius says, pulling back slightly, following Remus’ line of vision behind him. And then Remus is walking brusquely, pulling the stunned fifteen year old into his arms tightly. Harry doesn’t respond, apparently to gobsmacked to move. Sirius swallows and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, catching his breath and smirking, the shock of having Remus back settling down.

“Granger,” he yells “you owe me fifty fuckin galleons. Pay the fuck up”

There’s crashing, yelping, and scrambling from the third floor and he stands at the bottom of the spiralling staircase looking up, paying no heed to the fact that Remus is still holding Harry, letting the relief of their godson’s safety wash over him, or that Harry was still very stationary and blank faced.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Hermione yells in reply, and the sounds of her footsteps running up the top flights of stairs can be heard from where he’s stood.

“You little shit,” he shouts, starting up the stair case “you better have a good hiding place because I’m a fuckin legend and I’ll find you so help me Merlin”

“I’d like to see you try, old man”

“You little asshole,” he hisses under his breath.

“I heard that, you decrepit piece of shit,” she yells back “good luck getting your hands on the smartest witch of my generation”

“I am fuckin infamous for getting my hands on smart witches,” he calls and Ron squeals from where he’s clearly still in the bedroom, slamming the door behind him on their shouting match "hey, Granger, I’ll tell Carrie Fletcher you said she was a rubbish kisser!”

“And you’re forty three! Act your age”

“Never,” Sirius calls over his shoulder as he speeds up. In fact, it takes him three hours to find Hermione, and that’s because she’s run to one of the back windows and shimmied down the pipe line. She’s sat in the garden among the shrubbery, smoking one of the cigarettes she’s somehow stolen from him, looking very smug and handing him the money he’s owed.

 


End file.
